


Intrigue

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also not sorry, Awkward Harry, Baby backstory, Because I'm a tease now apparently, Except not school-subjects teaching, Just Over The Clothes Lovin', M/M, No Sex, Not Cohesive, Same Year, Sexy Time Teaching, Snippets, Teacher Tom, Tom and Harry are at Hogwarts together, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Harry asks Tom about sex, and Tom's response isn't the straight-forward, if potentially embarrassing, explanation he expects. </p>
<p>“You seemed like you’d be more experienced,” Harry blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks flaring back to life as he crushed his eyes shut in mortification. He did <i>not</i> just say that…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrigue

Now Harry had other friends, _best friends_ , in fact, but... well, with Ron constantly sneaking off to the nearest broom cupboard with Lavender and Hermione being in a seemingly permanent state of sulking, studying, or snapping, Tom had quickly gained his confidence. Not that he had altogether trusted the Slytherin, at first. Tom was charming, sure, but he was also very closed off and tight-lipped sometimes; the sense of deja vu from several skillful evasions about his life outside of Hogwarts had baffled Harry for the longest time until he realized, with no small bit of incredulity, that the teen reminded Harry of himself. Namely when questioned about the Dursleys.

In a leap of faith, Harry slowly opened up about his homelife, putting voice to things he had kept bottled up for years. He was vague, yes, but Tom wasn’t called a genius for nothing. In fact, some of it he already knew: he admitted to noting Harry’s bruises in first year, and spotting his unusual thinness at the start of each term. Harry was baffled that Tom had been paying attention to him for so long, but wrote it off as less creepy and more of a Tom quirk, of which there were many.

Eventually Harry grew comfortable enough to let something about his cupboard slip, only to be shocked stupid when Tom bolted to his feet, magic crashing around him in a heavy cloak of malevolent intent. Intimidated, it had taken several long, speechless moments for Harry to gather his bearings and soothe Tom, who was intent on punishing (Harry had a feeling that was a euphemism for murdering) his relatives.

* * *

 “N-no, I was j-just wondering…” Harry stuttered, glancing up through his lashes only to freeze in place. The arch to Tom’s brow was thoroughly unimpressed, but his _eyes_ … they bore into his own, _smoldering_. Harry shifted forward, entranced by the change. Typically Tom’s eyes were hard and cold aside from the occasional flickers of disdain, though Harry could most always coax in a vague sense of amusement or irritation. This unrestrained intensity was new.

Of course, Tom caught his staring - it wasn’t like he was exactly being discrete - and his brow climbed higher. Harry leaned back and internally shook himself, trying to recollect his thoughts. He scowled as he felt his face burn brighter. Harry was mortified by his own behavior, possibly even more-so than the question. After all, it was natural to be curious and to ask friends about such things, but Harry was acting like Neville in Snape’s class! Where had all his Gryffindor courage gone?

Probably sucked away by those stupidly intense eyes, Harry mused, shivering slightly as he felt the orbs searing into his forehead, cataloging each minute reaction.

“You seemed like you’d be more experienced,” Harry blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks flaring back to life as he crushed his eyes shut in mortification. He did not just say that… even if it were true, Harry was rarely so crass. Merlin, Ron was definitely rubbing off on him!

“I just mean,” Harry continued quickly, avoiding Tom’s piercing stare even as he congratulated himself on his fairly even tone, a rather large improvement from the previous stammering. Of course, if he met Tom’s eyes it would probably return ten times stronger… Harry didn’t even want to know what sort of look the teen was currently sporting, a rarity in and of itself. Harry was, by nature, a very inquisitive person, which was precisely what got him into the this situation in the first place.

Well, that and his dormmates recent fascination with the topic had piqued his interest. It wasn’t exactly like there were books available on the subject, this was a school after all, but he wasn’t close enough to any of them to feel comfortable broaching the topic. Perhaps with Ron, but even that felt so awkward, and it wasn’t exactly the conversation you wanted to initiate after barely-talking for over a month.

* * *

 “That’s touching yourself,” Harry stated confidently, knowing at least this much. Harry’s first masterbation had been brief, sticky, and completely accidental - he was having a wet dream and woke bucking into his own loose grip. Still half-asleep, he had let instincts take over, unwittingly pushing towards the precipice, regaining his senses ever-so gradually as the pleasure built. After several minutes he’d had to stop himself, thighs and lips trembling as he neared the peak. Only, he had no idea of his impending orgasm: only that whatever was happening felt strange and good and dangerous, and his cock was inflated and burning at the friction yet craving more, and _perhaps he was sick_ …

Despite having bitten into his pillow to muffle any sounds, Harry’s roommates had determinedly avoided his eyes the following morning, Neville in particular giving him blushing glances.

“L-look, I’m fine to just ask Cedric or something if you don’t-”

“No,” Tom snarled, pressing him bodily into the wall. Then, calmer, “No, I will show you.”

_Show-?_

Before Harry could so much as blink Tom’s mouth had descended upon his own, his thin lips laying siege to plump pink. The collision was harsh, claiming, and as thorough as it was startling - _arousing_ , Harry’s mind whispered.

Alarmed by a slight stir in his trousers, Harry made a conflicting noise - a disgruntled refusal, a moan? - and snaked a hand up the back of Tom’s neck, snatching at his immaculate locks and pulling harshly. They separated with the yank, faces parted but bodies still pressed together ever-so-sweetly.

Harry’s chest heaved, adrenaline rushing through his veins, twitching fingers lingering in Tom’s hair as his magic pushed forth to soothe the no-doubt painful burn.

“I-you-we…” Harry flustered, eyes boring into Tom’s chest, unable to meet the gaze searing into his forehead. Long fingers swept up from his hip, gentle yet stern as they tried to tilt his head up.

(A raised head doesn’t equate raised eyes, Tom.)

“I didn’t mean show me,” said Harry at last, weakly. Timidly. Tom hummed in response, and Harry’s eyes shot up to meet the prefect’s stern, _dilated_ gaze.

Harry gulped.

“But what better way to teach than through demonstration?” Tom retorted, not seeming the least bit upset about Harry’s assault to his hair - gauging the youth’s reaction to Tom’s own claiming of his mouth.

Harry’s eyes darted away - he wet his lips, _was he teasing or torturing Tom?_ \- and he drew a slow breath, heart pounding with alarming frequency against Tom’s ribcage.

They were still so _close_ …

“I-I don’t think,” he whispered, trailing off. Uncertain; _wanting_.

(Harry was fully conscious of the fact that he was attracted to Tom, but had restrained and repressed any inappropriate notions, positive nothing would ever come of it. Tom cared for him in his own way, naturally, but he was hardly going to take Harry on as a lover - he would never allow for such ‘weakness,’ after all, and to be honest Harry rather doubted he could tolerate Tom being even more possessive than he already was.)

(He hadn’t yet forgotten the sound of Draco Malfoy’s fingers snapping one by one.)

“Yes, I’m aware,” Tom hummed, smirking as defiant eyes glared up at him. “You have no need to think in this particular form of education, _Harry_.”

A shiver shot up Harry’s spine at the hiss of his name - God, but he hated it, loved it, when Tom nearly slipped to parseltongue. _Their_ tongue.

“All that is required,” lectured the elder, seemingly unaffected by the reverberating tremor. “Is to _feel_.”

Harry smirked, re-meeting dark eyes despite himself. “I take it you have some trouble in the field?”

His taunt was taken quite seriously, it seemed, because the next second Harry was pressed back to cold stone, one hand sliding smoothly down his chest as the other angled his head.

“Is that a challenge, Potter?” brushed hotly against his lips, and Harry debated.

(He could say no. He could walk away and leave this an embarrassing memory. He could drift away from Tom for a time before reconnecting; before laughing it all off as some stupid little _experiment_ -)

“Yes,” Harry hissed.

It was mere curiosity, he assured himself. Teenaged lust.

(Merlin, but he wanted this stuck up prick, _his_ stuck up prick.)

Tom chuckled darkly, as if plucking the very thoughts from his head, one hand holding Harry firmly to the wall as the other resumed its trek down, down, _down_ , and _oh-_

“You really should know better,” Tom breathed into his ear, hand idly caressing him through the barrier of his robe and pants.

Harry choked on his laugh.

Yes, he really, really should.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel awkward with this just gathering dust for like the past 2 years, so I polished it an itty bit and am letting it see the light of day. Pretty sure it was inspired by a paragraph in _Ambitious_ by GrrHatLet, but it's been a while.


End file.
